


The Mountain and the Hawk

by White Aster (white_aster)



Category: The House of Nine Doors - Ellen Kushner
Genre: Bathtubs, Cousin Incest, Fantasy, M/M, Mercenaries, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2007-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master of the House of the Nine Doors receives a visitor on the winter solstice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mountain and the Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank Maile and Laylah for their beta-reading prowess! :)
> 
> Written for Oyce

 

 

Inside the city, there is a certain House.

But outside of the city, there are the mountains.

The mountains are a ring of teeth surrounding the city, sharp and broken and impassable in most places. They have, at different times in the city's history, been shield and sword, cocoon and cage, boon and bane. They provide iron, clay, furs, silver, precious gems, and the beginnings of the Kanaa River that rushes past the city, taking away its bounty and bringing back wheat, fruit, wood, and gold. The mountains also hold the tribesmen: proud peoples who, so the histories state, refused to join with the other tribes that climbed down out of the mountains to gather on the fertile plain. Instead, they clung to their ancestral homes, carved tooth and nail from the bare niches and hidden green valleys of the mountains. There they have stayed, keeping their ways, fighting their small wars amongst themselves, living and dying in the mountain's arms while the city below them prospers and grows.

Time has made an uneasy peace among the mountain and city peoples, born of mutual wariness and need. Much of the city's most in-demand goods come from the mountain tribes. And, in turn, what the mountain peoples need is traded for in the city, or, if the winter is particularly harsh, taken in a ruthless sweep of the farmland that surrounds the city like a patchwork skirt.

The city calls the mountain savages. The mountain calls the city soft. The city calls the mountain thieves and parasites, and the mountain calls the city the same.

In the end, their true relationship is spoken in the language of traded goods and wary respect: the furs of ferocious mountain beasts for foodstuffs, sturdy mountain horses for refined steel, pottery and jewelry for medicines, vividly colored wools for wood, exquisitely balanced blades for imported tools, and fours and eights of fiercely cunning mercenaries for cold, hard gold. It is a guarded but stable balance, with each side straying into the other's territory rarely, briefly, and with the pained desire to be quickly gone.

There are exceptions, of course.

\----------------------------

They arrive at dawn, waiting patiently on their horses for the gates to open: an eight of hooded riders nearly invisible in mottled gray cloaks against the watery winter dawnlight. Their horses are wide-backed mountain beasts with red eyes and hooves the size of small dinner plates. Their saddles and halters are worked with metal charms and beads that catch the sun's first rays as they cut through the fine sifting of snow. The guards cast a wary eye on the tribesmen's blades, but there has been no trouble with mercenaries lately, and the visitors' leader says they will be two days, no more, to do some business. The head guardsman nods shortly, jerking his head to motion them through the gate.

The eight move into the city. Out and away from the guard, a practiced eye would see that they relax in their saddles. They ride down the Way of the Tradesman, the city's widest street, which leads to the great central marketplace. They raise their hands to each other as they peel off onto side streets in ones and twos, going their separate ways: this one towards the residential streets, that one towards the blacksmith, yet another towards the artisans' district.

Eventually, it is only the eight's leader that follows the Way of the Tradesman to its end. He turns his horse to skirt the edge of the market, which already bustles with merchants and kitchen servants haggling over the chickens and eggs, vegetables and fruits that will be the city's breakfast. The leader rides past the foodsellers, only tempted to stop when he sees a spread of winter apples at an old woman's stall tucked near the back wall. She peers up at him on his horse, haggles ruthlessly, and eventually tosses two of the fruit up to him with surprisingly good aim. The apples are crisp, tart, and taste of winter snow. The leader bites into one himself and feeds the other to his horse, who seems to all but swallow it whole.

The leader's next stop is less entertaining but more profitable. He greets a keen-eyed jeweler at his stall and, after much peering and haggling and harrumphing, exchanges the glittering contents of a small leather pouch for a much larger pouch of gold. The leader's smile, baring teeth filed unnaturally sharp in the manner of the fiercest of the Dvari tribe's mercenaries, is satisfied enough to make the jeweler wonder if he's just been had. The mercenary swings himself back up onto his horse and heads for the heart of the city.

There, he dismounts before a House unlike any other. He knocks on the First Door and is admitted.

\----------------------------

Eyas is in his morning bath, just starting to stretch out in the sunken marble pool, when one of his newest servants skitters in and whispers into his ear, "There is a ba- a tribesman here, m'lord."

The Master of the House of the Nine Doors opens his eyes, vaguely grumpy at having his morning ritual disturbed...and before the mint-and-herb haze can even truly wake him up, at that. "All are welcome here, Tessa, provided they follow the rules of the House. And can pay, of course."

The girl clears her throat, her fingers picking at the hem of her linen apron. Eyas sees her blush out of the corner of his eye and realizes, vaguely, that she might not be yet used to nudity, even below-water as it is. "Oh. I'm sorry, m'lord, I meant that...he's here to see YOU. The...the porter said that he's been here before to see you?"

Ah, Eyas thinks. THAT barbarian. "I see. Show him in, Tessa."

"In...in HERE, m'lord?"

"Yes, Tessa."

"Y...yes, m'lord."

Moments pass. The air is heavy with the scent of mint and beeswax candles, the dawn barely starting to filter in through the windows high in the walls above. Eyas lets his mind stray hopefully to the day's business ahead while he waits for Tessa's footsteps to return, accompanied by a heavier, longer stride. Eyas is facing away from the door, and he very pointedly does not turn to look until the lighter pair of footsteps scampers away again. He then says, without turning. "Gwai. What do you want?"

"Vrel," Gwai says, and Eyas can all but hear the smile on his lips. "Winter's blessing to you, too."

Eyas turns to...well, not quite scowl, but certainly to look pointedly at his visitor. The man's hood is thrown back, revealing a thin face, dark eyes nearly as sharp as his teeth, and a long, whip-thin braid of dark hair. He wears sturdy but travelworn homespun, blades strapped to back and thigh, and one of the Nine Devils' own grins on his lips. "It's Eyas, Gwai." Eyas rolls his eyes, muttering grudgingly, "Winter's blessing."

"I don't get why you still call yourself that. Shouldn't you have grown into just 'Hawk', by now?" the tribesman asks innocently, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Eyas doesn't dignify that with an answer. "I hope that you didn't terrorize the poor girl on your way here. She's new."

"What, frighten her with my savage barbarian ways? It's not like I needed to. She looked frightened enough that I existed. I think she was afraid I might eat her."

"She's cityborn. Grew up serving in the palace. She's probably never seen a blade that close, let alone--" Eyas looks his visitor up and down again, "--two of them. Only two? A bit underdressed, aren't you?"

"The day I need full gear to visit you will be...much more interesting than usual, actually." The tribesman pushes away from the door, unfastening his cloak. "And my second dagger broke last week. I still need to replace it. That water looks nice, by the way. You don't mind if I join you, right?"

Eyas frowns and settles into the water a bit further. "If you get a road's worth of dirt in here, the housekeeping staff with be howling for your head."

"I'm not that dirty, you ass." Gwai's clothes join his cloak on the floor, his blades settled carefully in the cloth. "Took a dip in the Kanaa this morning, just for you."

Eyas grimaces. "Bathing in the river in the middle of winter. And you wonder why I prefer the city."

"For hot baths? You HAVE gotten soft." Gwai pads over to the pool. His bare feet make no noise on the stone floor, and the water barely ripples as he lowers himself into it. The tub is more like a pool, really, with more than enough room for several people, let alone an extra mercenary. Gwai settles himself facing Eyas and sighs, wiry arms stretching over his head. "Though I have to admit, this is nice."

Eyas watches him through half-closed eyes. "What _are_ you here for, Gwai?"

Gwai leans back against the wall of the tub. "I need a reason to visit my dear cousin?"

"When that dear cousin is in the city? Yes."

"I hate to tell you, _Eyas_ , but you are far from the only interesting thing in the city." Gwai's quirked smile takes most of the sting out of the words. "We were passing by. I sold a bit of my cut from the last job. Thought I would stop by and see that _someone_ gave you a proper solstice greeting this year."

Eyas looks at him for a long moment.

Gwai looks back, stretching his legs out and wiggling his toes in the water.

"You're serious," Eyas says.

Gwai smiles. "Always."

Eyas flicks water at him irritably with an outstretched foot. Gwai neatly catches the foot involved and sets his thumbs against the arch, rubbing.

Eyas' eyes go to half-mast. "How...hm...how is the family?"

"Well enough. I don't get over to your family's camp all that often anymore. From what I've heard your mother's doing fine, Tventa and Thora are in the mines, Ketel just had another son, and Likae is fast becoming something of a legend for her spear-making. Justifiably, too. A few in my eight won't use anything else for boarhunting, and I don't blame them."

Eyas smiles, relaxing, though whether from the news or the way Gwai's strong fingers walk up and down the sole of his foot is up for debate. "She always did have an eye for it."

"Oh, and my mother has threatened to come to the city and kill you herself, by the way." Gwai's fingers spider over Eyas' heel, thumbs rubbing over the top of his foot.

Eyas opens an eye. "...what have I done now?"

"Set a bad example for the children." Gwai smiles at the memory. "Evidently little Tivva has decided that he would _also_ like to run away to the city to become a whoremaster."

Eyas snorts laughter, then frowns. "Wait, Tivva is what, ten? Where did he hear that?"

Gwai shakes his head, smiling. "I've no clue. He has no idea what he's talking about, of course, but just him parroting it had Mother furious."

"I'm sure," Eyas mutters, as Gwai lets go of his foot and gestures for the other. Eyas shrugs and sets his other heel in Gwai's palm. "Am I still used as a shining example of a horrible Dvari son?"

"Sometimes. Less and less now, though. Somehow they find being the whoremaster somehow better than being a whore." Gwai's voice is more amused than anything.

"Whoring has done well by me, thank you much," Eyas says, with just a hint of arch.

"You don't have to convince ME." Gwai sets Eyas' heel on his shoulder and reaches down to dig his thumbs into Eyas' calf. Eyas feels his muscles go limp in one of the best ways possible. Gwai glances about the room. "You've done well for yourself. Much better than I expected you to, when you ran off."

"Your faith in me is heart-warming."

"You were _fifteen_ , Vrel. Predators prey on the young, mountain or city, no matter how smart they are." Gwai tilts his head, braid falling over his shoulder to float in the water. "Honestly, you can't tell me that that was the smartest thing you've ever done, whether it paid off or not."

Eyas' lips twist. "So says the man who lets others try to kill him for money."

"Ah, well, I never said that I was any better."

Eyas looks over Gwai with more of a purpose, eyes following the scars visible above the waterline. "And you? How has your eight been doing, this season?"

Gwai smiles, teeth flashing. "Very well. We caught a late job this year, which will give us a bit of padding for the winter and spring. Which is good, since Anja's pregnant and likely to birth in the spring. She and Rayi will be out for awhile, and we'll need to find another two to fill the eight. I've got a few in mind, but I won't be able to recruit them until the snows melt."

Eyas' lips twist in a smile. "You sound like a leader. What happened to the bloodthirsty raider I remember?"

Gwai chuckles, his breath cold, then warm against Eyas' leg. He turns his head to set his teeth against Eyas' calf. Not hard enough to break the skin, just enough to make Eyas' gaze sharpen, his skin twitch. "Grew up, I suppose. Having people depending on you does that to a man, I hear." His hands slide further down Eyas' leg, over the knee to work on the large muscles in the thigh.

"Mmm...you keep going that direction, and I'll have to charge you," Eyas says mildly, watching the play of muscle in Gwai's shoulders through slitted eyes.

"Hmm...." Gwai licks a trail of water off Eyas' skin. "How much?"

Eyas' eyelids droop further as Gwai lets his leg down and slides forward in the water, his hands abandoning massaging in favor of skating over Eyas' hips. "More than you have."

"Try me. I did just get paid today, remember." Gwai settles in front of Eyas, the water lapping at his chest. He runs one hand up over Eyas' nipples, then down again to disappear beneath the water.

Eyas raises an eyebrow. "You really want to buy me?"

"I want to fuck you," Gwai corrects him, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck. "If it takes paying for it now, then that's what I'll do." He cocks his head, looking pained. "So long as you don't make me go outside and come back in through one of the Doors. It's cold out there."

Eyas' hand falls to the back of Gwai's head, burying fingers in the beginnings of the braid there. He leans forward, breathing deep, and Gwai smells of wet stone, clean horse, and leather. It is not...QUITE...the smell of home anymore, but it is familiar and perhaps missed in all the years since Vrel left the mountains and became Eyas. And Gwai is, undoubtedly, a pain in the ass in the way that only a man who's known you since you were five can be. But Eyas cannot deny that he'd like to trace those scars again, with fingers and tongue, and perhaps find where the new ones lie.

Gwai looks up at him, a question in his eyes, his fingers tracing wicked patterns on Eyas' belly.

Eyas pulls away to push himself out of the bath. Gwai's eyes rake over his body hungrily, settling with a grin on Eyas' hard sex. Eyas wraps himself in a soft robe and smiles. He watches Gwai rise from the bath, the water gleaming off lean, hard muscle and scars alike. "Very well. We shall see. Work hard enough, and perhaps you'll make me forget to charge you."

Gwai laughs. "Ah, I see, so now _I_ get to be the whore?"

Eyas' cock twitches at the idea. Gwai would, in reality, make a terrible whore, but Eyas knows all about the power of an idealized fantasy. He's fulfilled many of them, but can't recall ever getting to demand something similar of anyone else. "That would certainly be one method, yes."

Gwai steps close, running a finger along Eyas' collarbone. "Lead on, then. Master." He grins into the heat in Eyas' eyes, and Eyas catches Gwai's braid in one pale hand, tugging him closer so that he can lean over, take his mouth, taste the mint-and-apple taste of him. Gwai makes a rumbling, happy sound that Eyas remembers from other times, other places where Gwai has caught up with him over the years, as unpredictable and transient as the wind.

But familiar. Perhaps missed.

"Get dressed, then," Eyas murmurs against his lips. "I won't have you scandalizing my servants."

Gwai chuckles. "It might be a bit late for that."

"Put your clothes on anyway." Eyas turns to the door, hiding his smile. "This is a private show."

 


End file.
